Life and Death
by zoroark65
Summary: A story of 12 tributes competing in the first Quarter Quell. Slightly AU. Rated T for strong language and  of course  violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Cressica's POV **

I still remember that day as if it were only yesterday. The day my life crumbled to pieces. The day I was sent off to my death. In other words, the day of the annual reaping.

My name is Cressica Vollux. I come from District 8. I live in a rundown, industrial town that I like to refer to as Dystopia. I tell myself these things whenever I need to remember my old life, before I entered the Hunger Games. That morning started out simple, of course. One of the only positives about Reaping Day was that whoever was not sent off to their deaths received a day off, which was a luxury for most in this district. All we seemed to do was work. Go to school, work for four hours, go to bed, and do it all again the following day. I went to school five days a week, and to work six days a week. Even when I got that one easy day each week, it's not like I had much to come home to. The only person who I had over at home was my father, and he was practically a crippled mess of a man.

My mother was killed during a riot when I was about seven, six years ago. The memory of the failed rebellion was still somewhat fresh in the minds of the public, so it wasn't uncommon for riots to break out. My mother was leading one, being an old rebel, when she was stabbed by a Peacekeeper. I attended the riot, but in all the confusion, I didn't even know she was killed until my father told me, let alone see her die. Ever since, my paternal figure has been nothing but a shattered piece of waste. He drinks all day, and barely has any time for me. I never acknowledge it, but I'm supporting the two of us by myself.

Sadly enough, my mother is not the only deceased member of my family. My brother was reaped two years ago… Now I finally know how it feels. The day he had been reaped, I had never felt more helpless. I had seen people volunteer for their friends or siblings, but alas, I could not. I was eleven, not old enough yet for the reaping. His chances of survival actually appeared rather bright, as he made it into the final two tributes. He was slain on the final day by a tribute from District 4, a face that still haunts my slumber. If you think that you cannot hate someone you've ever only seen on a TV screen, you are mistaken.

My father and I went through our usual morning routine. We ate the breakfast I earned for the two of us in silence, then half-strolled, half-stumbled out the door to our business. On our foot journey to the City Square, I asked my father the question I've asked every year, even before I was eligible to be reaped. It may sound feeble and meek, but I asked: "Dad, what would you do if I got reaped?"

His response, unlike the question, was different each year. This time, his reply was chilling and daunting, "Cressica… if you were to leave me as well, I don't think I could continue living."

Great, I thought. Now I'm working to save two lives, instead of just my own. Another obstacle added to these brutal, dark Games.

President White had announced that this year, it being the 25th Hunger Games, would be the first ever Quarter Quell: A Hunger Games with a twist. This twist? The two tributes reaped from each district would have to battle one another to even get to the Games. It may seem simpler to have only eleven other tributes to defeat as opposed to twenty-three others, but at least the latter is twenty-three innocent children. With these Games, no one is free of guilt. Everyone is already a cold-blooded killer, no one an admirable angelic youth.

I stepped into the City Square and joined the rest of the female thirteen-year-olds, as the rest of them settled and shifted; I never much liked those girls. They were all too privileged, at least for District 8. Their lives weren't plagued by death. One beside me made a sudden movement, and I shoved her shoulder against a girl near her. She glared at me, making the last face I would ever see before I was sent off to my death.

The overly glamorous, somewhat unattractive escort reached into the girls' reaping ball, proclaiming, "Ladies first!" She took out a balled-up slip of paper and unwrapped it. "Cressica Vollux!"

I never believed that hearing my own name would mean so much – so much negativity. I thought of when my brother's name, Anderson Vollux, had been called two years earlier… this meant even more to me, personally. I was being sent off to a death-trap arena just like he had been.

The escort began to scan the crowd of girls as the ones around me began to stir, wondering if one among them was the one reaped. I briefly considered simply ignoring my getting reaped and staying silent, but the Capitol wouldn't assume that I wasn't present – everyone in District 8 was gathered for this Reaping. They would find me somehow… it was better to show some strength and step up right now.

I shoved my way out of the crowd of socialites and stepped up on stage. As much as I tried not to concentrate on it, the people in my district looked horrified… another child was being sent off to their death. I tried to maintain a poker face, neither excited nor nervous. My eyes only scanned over the image for a split second, but the face of my father still remains in the recesses of my mind. He was wearing an expression of sheer fear and shock, chugging down a bottle of alcohol. I turned toward the escort in an effort to erase it.

"Now for the boys!" The irritating yet relieving voice screeched. She reached into the other reaping ball – the boys' – and took out another slip of paper. The next two words plummeted my world down even further. "Tyson Novarro!"

My mind sent me back in time to the previous afternoon – that name called was not simply a random kid I didn't know… it was the one closest to me, even surpassing my paternal figure. We were sitting on the edge of a cliff, having a picnic. It was our day off from both work and school, and we did it every week. Still, it was the most special time of the week. We would catch up with one another about what happened during the week, eat away our sorrows, and cheer each other up.

This time around, I was in one of my worst moods of all time. I went on and on about my brother, my father, my mother, Panem, everything and anything that depressed or angered me. Tyson had held his index finger to my lips.

"_Calma te, mi amor," _He coaxed ever-so-sweetly. As much as I hate to admit it, it always turned me on whenever he spoke that language. It's really all it took to get me in a good mood – and I hate that fact.

Tyson once informed me that before Panem was formed, there was a country where District 8 now is that spoke a language other than English – Spanish, he once called it. According to him, it's been passed down from his ancestors. Anyway, I never have any clue what he's saying. I wonder if he sometimes says something random just to see if I'll be charmed by it.

"_Me gusta la lechuga," _My boyfriend continued. "Calm down, Cressica. Let's deal with what's here now, not what vanished in the past."

As much as I still needed help and comfort, he began jabbering about his nightmares, which he had painfully often. He told me that he had had a nightmare about getting reaping the previous night, and that he died in the Bloodbath.

Now here we both stood, his nightmare having had come true. I could see the apparent fear in his emerald eyes, but they also said something else. He mouthed two words that changed my life since then. _Kill me._ He had mouthed.

The escort clapped giddily and handed the two of us daggers. She giggled. "Well, then! Now to see who goes off to the Games! You may begin!"

For a moment, Tyson and I shared a brief, silent conversation. He tilted his neck upwards and nodded. I stared down at the dagger in my left hand and blinked back tears. Then… then, I don't know what came over me, but… my boyfriend convinced me to kill him. I struck him once with the dagger, and he fell to the ground far too easily. As soon as I saw blood, the audience gasped. I heard Tyson's mother shout something, but to this day, I have no idea what. I kept stabbing him until he was coughing up blood.

He touched my chin gently and whispered, "I love you, Cressica. Come back for me… I'll see you again, I know. Hopefully, not too soon. _Te amo._" He then lost focus and closed his eyes for the very last time.

The crowd was silent. Sobs were heard occasionally, but from who couldn't be determined.

The heartless escort broke the silence. "…Well, then. Off we go."

Two bulky gentlemen dragged me to the District Capitol and set me in a room I had seen before. I knew that this was where I had said farewell to my brother, and where my loved ones would say the same to me… or, rather, loved _one_. I had killed off the only other person who gave two shits about me, leaving only my father. While I was comtemplating this, said paternal figure entered the room. I looked up for a single moment. I then quickly looked back down. "F-father…" I stammered. "You're here."

My father nodded. "Of course I am, sweetie. If I'm not, who would be?" I may have argued if I didn't know that were true. "But… listen. Come back in one piece, okay?" He hiccupped, a bottle of beer in his pocket. "I'll be watching the Games…" His voice broke and continued to break. "And I'll be rooting for you… it'll be what keeps me in one piece." He took out a deep purple case. He opened it up, as if he were proposing to me… which would seriously disturb me. He took out a bright silver ring with the word "Love" engraved in cursive on one side.

"Take this." He continued. "It was your mother's. She'd want you to have it." He slipped it onto my ring finger and left me to admire it.

A burly Capitol man came in and gave my father the signal that it was time to leave. My father, with sadness still lurking above him, reluctantly did as such.

I examined the ring for a minute, but found nothing more than what I saw at first sight. I choked back a weep and sighed deeply. I got up before those Capitol dicks could force me to, and left the District Capitol for what now seems like a millennium. I boarded the train bound for the Capitol and the Hunger Games, still not understanding what I had left behind that horrific date. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Cole's POV**

I awoke this morning feeling accomplished and independent, a couple of feelings I hadn't had for as long as I could remember.

My name is Cole Quarry. I come from District 2. My district is often considered to be rich and desirable, and I suppose that's true. But I never really felt that way: for some districts, your worries are whether or not you'll get your next meal. For me, I had something much, much worse – emotional troubles. My parents had seven children. Four males, me being the youngest of those four, and three females. All three of my sisters are younger than me, however, and not old enough yet to be reaped. Still, I know that they are stronger than me, and my parents treat the three like prodigies, and hope that they will volunteer for and win the Hunger Games. My parents already have two victors to be proud of, the oldest of my brothers. We used to have an eighth sibling, another boy, but he was killed a few years ago in a Hunger Game. I admit, despite the torture he gave me, I cried for a long time when he died. My parents had no sympathy for him, saying he was weak and undeserving of the family crest.

Sounds like how they talk about me. My parents and siblings realize that I was never interested or very good at battle, and that I'm more of an artistic type. They've caught me skipping my father's rigorous training sessions to sing a cheerful song alone in my room, and I'm punished whenever this happens. Still, I can't stop. I always feel as if I'm caught between living up to my family's standards and being my own person. I'm always kicked out of my brothers' mansions in the Victors' Village, shifting from mansion to mansion seemingly endlessly. When I was reaped a few days ago, I got the chance to be somebody, no matter how hard it would be.

The reaping up until that point had gone as usual, with a name being called for the girls, only to have fifty volunteers trample each other to get on stage. When one finally did manage to, it was one of the most powerful and ruthless Career kids in the entire district. When my name was drawn from the males' reaping ball, no one stepped up to volunteer – not even the boys who had been training their entire lives for the moment they would get to volunteer. Apparently, they were all too amused by the fact that I would have to do combat with a strong, healthy Career woman. The escort handed us both spears and simply ordered us to fight to the death. Surprisingly enough, I managed to slay the girl.

I chuckled slightly recalling this. The faces on the audience – especially my own family – were priceless. The tribute I killed – I still don't know her name – was so satisfying to defeat, it's almost unnatural. Finally, I feel as if I can make a difference in my life and actually mean something to both myself and my family. My thought was suddenly intruded on by a chipper voice calling to me.

I look up and realize it came from my mentor, who happens to be the same age as me. Normally, a mentor would be older than only 13, but with the Hunger Games only having been around twenty-five years, there weren't many victors to choose from. I even heard that some of the poorer districts didn't get mentors because they hadn't had any victors at that time. "Cole!" She had called to me. "Time for breakfast, man." She flashed me a quick grin and scampered away. As much as I hate to admit it, I had had a dream of her the previous night. While I'll get too embarrassed if I go into detail, I was can reveal that I had a major crush on her. She had won the Hunger Games the year before, and I planned to give District 2 a two-for-two record.

After we finished off breakfast, it was time to report downstairs for the first day of Training. It seemed necessary, seeing who I grew up with after all, though I did find the parade in costumes or whatever they called it the first day I was in the Capitol silly, especially since I went out in a tuxedo made of rocks. On the elevator ride down to the training area, my mentor, Christine, began to feed me advice.

"Try to ally with the tributes from District 1 and District 4, the other Career districts." My lovely mentor advised. "The strategy works… at least until you're the last ones left." She smirked as if she had just told me a joke, which I found downright sexy. "Beyond that, find what you're good at and… pretend to suck at it. Make sure no one knows how you operate. Whatever you really do suck at, make sure you make that obvious. Your victims'll never see it coming when you bring them down." She gave me a "subtle" wink.

As soon as I entered the Training Room, one of my least favorite emotions made a reappearance: intimidation. I saw tributes practicing whatever the hell they were good at, allying with one another, making strategies, everything my siblings do. As Christine advised, I went over to a weightlifting station – something I knew I was terrible at. I attempted to lift the heaviest weight I found, but immediately I was crushed under seven hundred pounds of cold, hard steel.

A robotic-looking boy who I can only assume was from District 3 pointed and laughed at me rather robotically. I was about to give the ring finger – the most offensive gesture known in District 2 – when an attractive – not as attractive as Christine, though – girl smirked down at me.

"I see you took advice from that Christine bitch. Having fun with it?" She asked.

I grunted and grabbed her by the wrist, which was sporting a thin gold bracelet. "Do _not_ call her that word."

The pompous Career whistled amusedly. "Calm down, peasant." She took out a rag and dusted off her bracelet. "And don't touch this stuff. It costs money; of course, I'm sure _you_ would know."

I snarled. "Who are you, anyway?"

"The name's Diamond... like the gem… because I am one." She bragged. "I'm from District 1. I assume you're from District…" She examined fully, feeling around in places that… well, would determine my gender rather than my District. "…11?"

"2." I corrected flatly. "And on that note, I think I won't start an alliance with you. I have a chance to be someone, and I'm not about to let _you _ruin it." I began to walk away, when she grabbed my wrist like I'd grabbed hers earlier.

"Come, now." Diamond coaxed. "You know you need me. And, I have to admit, without you, all I've got is…" She pointed to a tall, blonde girl looking at the roof somewhat gleefully.

I held back a chuckle. "Well—"

"I knew you'd see reason." She uttered rushedly. "Lunch is about to start. After that, we'll…" She examined me from head-to-toe once again. "…See what we can do." She dragged me towards the table and plopped the both of us down across from the blonde girl I mentioned before.

Said girl suddenly turned her short attention span towards me. "Oh, hi." She said with a sweet tone. "How are you doing?"

I nodded, in some sort of trance.

"Nice, isn't she?" Diamond cooed. "Too bad, that's all she has going for her."

"She's pretty, too…" I sighed.

"Mm, yes." Diamond agreed. She tilted my head up so I was actually looking at the girl's face. "But, dear, if you're going to go for Christine, at least stick for her."

I cleared my throat. "…Right." I faced the other Career girl. "So, um, your name is…?"

"Aquamarine." The girl replied. "I'm from District 4. I'm the lifeguard there." She grinned, as if she had been working on remembering those things.

I turned back to my District 1 ally. "But… she has to have some warrior skill in her, right? I mean, she killed the boy tribute from her District to get here, after all, right?"

Diamond shrugged. "It was a fluke, I bet. Sometimes things just don't happen the way they should. The best man loses, the worst man wins. Life isn't perfect. Her taking down an actual Career was just one of those imperfections." She then made a face as if the word revolted her and took out a hand mirror as she applied lipstick.

"Story of my life." I murmured. "But, we have to do something to make her better."

"Well…" Diamond sighed, as if that suggestion were vile. "Did you see her get reaped? And her killing her District partner?"

I strained my memory in order to remember. I had watched all twelve reapings on the train going to the Capitol, including my own. I managed to remember the fourth reaping I watched and recognized Aquamarine instantly: her long blonde hair, revealing style of clothes, and beauteous blue eyes, as her name would suggest. I remembered the horror of her reaping, suddenly, and what had happened.

The District 4 tributes had been given tridents to kill each other with. When Aquamarine was reaped, it reminded me of my own reaping: the entire crowd started laughing at her, doubting her fighting ability. The guy tribute reaped right after looked extremely tough and it was obvious he scared her witless. I had watched in horror as she slowly slayed apart her District partner, going as far as to crush his organs one by one. I was kind of a hypocrite for being so horrified, but what really got me was her expression. She looked as if she enjoyed what she had just done, whereas I was only surprised in my own fighting skills. She beamed as every organ was smashed to pieces, as her fellow citizens could only stare on in shock and amazement.

I blinked myself back to reality and took another glance at Aquamarine. Suddenly, her smiling face seemed much more innocent.

Diamond took one look at my face and knew what I had been thinking about. "…Yeah." She agreed. "She… might actually be of service to us."

I picked at my now-cold lunch, staring uninterestedly at the meager sandwich and drink. "So, uh…" I stammered, desperate to change the subject. "What about all the other tributes? Do we have any threats?"

Besides the three of us Careers, everyone was sitting by themselves. I looked over at the District 3 boy from earlier, the one who had made fun of me. He was picking apart his sandwich as if it were a bomb and putting it back together again. I was beginning to think I could outdo him physically, until I saw his robotic arms crush said sandwich into mere crumbs. He belched and gave me a menacing glare.

I diverted my gaze to a girl who was staring absently into space, but unlike Aquamarine had. From her expression, it was obvious she had a terrible past. Even worse than mine, perhaps, as it seemed being the family runt wasn't the worst thing that could happen to you.

I finally locked eyes with a boy who could've passed off for a Career. He was wearing a diamond necklace and grimacing; sporting formal-looking hair with so much gel it could've held a beast's hair in place.

Diamond seemed to figure out who I was staring at and sighed deeply. "Him?" She pondered aloud. "I wouldn't overestimate him. He may look like a billionaire, but he's only rich in District 12 terms."

"…He's from District 12?" I blubbered. "I thought they were coal, not diamonds."

Diamond scoffed. "His dad got lucky, that's all. First day in the coal mines, he struck a motherload of diamonds. Ever since, his family's been the richest in District 12. They've all got good heads for business, lucky for them."

"…Woah." Was all I could think to say.

Diamond nodded reluctantly. "He's probably too much of a priss to be good in battle, though." She stared into her diamond-encrusted heels and scratched the table, making Aquamarine hold her hands to her ears. "…I'm an exception to that rule, of course." She chuckled.

I scooted back a bit. "How do you know so much about him?"

"I mistook him for the District 2 Career." Diamond smiled fondly, as if she had just told me a hilarious joke. "Before I met you, of course."

I rolled my eyes but admitted, "I can't really blame you, can I?"

Diamond nodded. "The kid's name is Noir, by the way." She added. "The other thing I found out about him was that he killed his own sister after he got reaped. No one cared, of course. Someone that rich never survives on the streets."

"You being the exception?" I asked flatly.

"Somebody catches on fast." Diamond snickered. She snarled at Aquamarine, who flinched and began shuddering.

Immediately, I felt a dash of pity for Noir. I mean, my life wasn't much better, but the guy had to kill his own sister. Although, I also thought he was kind of a dick. I mean, it was selfish to kill your own blood for personal gain. Still, that's not a very good situation for you to think straight in.

It began setting in just how much Diamond could read my thoughts when she advised, "Choose your allies wisely." She sounded so wise when she said it, I couldn't believe she was only three years older than me. "I wouldn't make Noir one of them."

Seemingly just as suddenly as it had begun, a voice rang out from the front, ending our lunch break: "Your lunch hour has terminated. Tributes, you may continue your training."

Diamond took one of her signature deep breathes and stood up. "Well, then… let's go see what you're good at…" She put her index finger to her chin. "What _are _you good at?"

I shrugged. "Hiding? Singing? Fleeing? Running?"

Diamond rolled her eyes. "Don't be so pessimistic. Maybe your parents just haven't tapped your talent yet."

I raised my right eyebrow in question. "And you think _you _can do that?" I followed that up with a scoff.

Diamond merely shrugged. "I can try, can't I?"

I shrugged back. "I guess so."

She examined me once again. "You seem to be capable of speed." She looked over at two tributes simulating swordfighting. "…Let's try that." She cackled.

My eyes widened. "Isn't… like, any other person in this room able to literally kill me?"

Diamond smirked. "All but one, probably." She yanked Aquamarine up by the shoulder. "You can duel Aquamarine, here."

Aquamarine's expression resembled that of a confused puppy dog's. "But… I've never even held a sword before."

Diamond stifled back a laugh, as if the statement amused her. "Perfect practice buddy for you, Cole."

I gulped and nodded reluctantly.

Once the other two tributes dueling, both innocent-looking girls, were through, Aquamarine and I stepped forward to begin our friendly fight.

What happened next I find hard to describe. In short, I started worrying a lot less about Aquamarine and a lot more about myself. In fifteen seconds flat, she had the sword touch my chest.

She giggled. "This sword game is fun, huh?"

I was nearly literally scared half to death. She had a certain… bloodlust in her eyes that short time she was fighting me. If it weren't against the rules, she might've killed me right then and there. It was no exaggeration to say I was downright terrified. But because I'm a freaking idiot, I demanded a rematch, "Yeah… let's go again."

The second time I fought her I lasted twenty-five seconds. _Wow. _I thought. _A new record._ Still, I felt determined when it came to this. Family blood to be determined, I guessed.

Before I could pull myself out of my thoughts, though, a rather noisy voice came from that damn loudspeaker. "Attention, tributes. The first day of Training has terminated. Please make your way back to your dormitories for dinner."

I cursed my bad luck. Looked like I'd have to wait a little longer before I could prove myself… story of my life. I got up and walked over to Diamond as Aquamarine aimlessly stumbled towards the exit.

"…What the hell was that?" Diamond sighed in my face.

"W-what do you mean?" I stammered. "We were j-just… engaging in s-swordplay."

Diamond rolled her eyes. "At least Aquamarine can contain her thirst for violence. You, on the other hand…"

"W-what's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, not as sternly as I had hoped.

"Know your enemies, kid." Diamond advised. "Aquamarine is _not _one of them… at least, not yet." She walked away, her many assorted accessories clicking and banging behind her.

As soon as I got back to my room, I told Christine I needed to rest a bit before dinner and plopped myself down on the bed. So many questions were in my head at that moment… so much confusion. I felt as if my talks with Diamond had raised more questions than it had answered. I entered the training room with the intention of bettering myself and making allies… I exited not knowing what I was good at and being uncomfortable with my two allies.

The following night, we had the interviews with that Caesar Flickerman guy… oh, god. It's his first year doing them, and he already acts smooth as silk. With all the Capitol's advancements in cosmetic surgery, he'll probably still be working the job in fifty years, looking not a day older than he does now. I had Training and then Christine was to give me tips on how to impress the Capitol residents in the audience.

_Let's not scare ourselves to death before the Games start, _I thought to myself, with some slight humor. I knew exactly what I was going to say at the interviews, whether my parents liked it or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Orchid's POV**

I awoke on the second day I would go to Training feeling a strange but pleasant combination of freedom and guilt.

My name is Orchid. I come from District 11. Back home, I'm just an Average Jane. Just like every other person who works in the field (so practically 95% of us), I stay in line and do my job due to fear of the Peacekeepers. When I was reaped, I felt a rush of several things: fear, confusion, but most of all… hope. Eventually, the notion that I might be able to escape my horrible District 11 life overshadowed how I was going to make said escape, even if by death. It almost drew attention away from my first kill… that poor boy. He was two years older than me, and his skin made it apparent that he had taken a lash or two from the Peacekeepers. He was easy to take down, even if I only used a rusty hammer. Still… I can't help but wonder what I took away from that boy… his chance to escape our District.

I get a rather rude awakening from my so-called mentor, Apollo Sol. "Hey, Tulip!" He called… he could never remember my name. "Time for breakfast! We've got a big day ahead of us!"

I rolled my eyes. Just because he's the only victor District 11's had, he thinks he rules the world. Really, his victory six years ago wasn't much of an accomplishment. While most District 11 victors would need a series of miracles to happen for them to win, he only really needed one: to survive the Bloodbath, which he did. The only reason he really won was because the arena that year was a desert, and only a person who toils in the fields all day like us could stand the heat. The other 23 tributes were dead in two days. Still, I'm happy for any tribute given the sweet mercy of being reaped out of District 11 like I was.

Apollo began talking to me as we walked to the dining room. "So… what do you plan to do in the Games?"

I shrugged shyly. "You got any ideas?"

The egoistic victor cleared his throat. "Well, from my experience…"

"Survive the Bloodbath and hope the arena gives you a major advantage?" I scoffed, only partially jokingly.

"…Yeah." Apollo agreed, somewhat discouraged.

When I realized I had offended him, I was apologetic. "S-sorry… I j-just…" As I stood awkwardly wondering when I had acquired a stammer, Apollo spoke up.

"It's okay." He assured and sighed. "After fifteen years of following the Peacekeepers' orders, you're glad to be with someone you can regard with sarcasm."

I looked at him with astonishment. He had figured me out before I even had.

To this, he replied, "After I won my Games, I went back to District 11 and buried myself in my artwork. I drew things that represented the spirit and people of our District. The Capitol residents found them 'cute.' Not exactly the word I would use, but they loved the paintings. I've made nearly a hundred thousand dollars off of them already."

I stared at him with newfound respect. He really _was _what everyone says: more than meets the eye.

"They say the heat in the arena did something to my brain." He went on. "Well, it did: it opened my artistic potential."

I was absolutely speechless. At first sight, Apollo was a half-baked, narcissistic nutcase with his head in the clouds. When you really got to know him, however, he was so much more… he was an artist.

That all seemed to disappear as him and I entered the dining hall. Apollo sat down beside my escort, Cindy, and began gobbling up his meal and keeping to himself, as usual.

Cindy simply rolled her eyes. Being a Capitol citizen, she was very… odd. Her hair was a deep shade of purple, and if were ever an opposite of naked, that would describe her clothing. It wasn't at all cold outside, but she wore what seemed like five jackets. All were imprinted with an abstract picture, most involving animals and old celebrities.

I began to pick at my morning meal as Cindy began to give me "helpful advice" for the interview the following night. She always liked to give me said advice in advance.

"Remember," she began. "It's all about making the Capitol love you. I would suggest you play that 'I'm a poor little poor girl from a poor little poor district' act, but the Capitol tired of that years ago. What you _should _do is show them you're _not _like that. Show them that just because you're from a poor District, you're not a poor little girl. Show them you've got spunk. I simply _love _tributes like that!"

I hid my face under the table. I hate to be so critical, but I couldn't stand how she put emphasis on random words and told me what to do all the time; she was like a kind version of the Peacekeepers. When I looked up, she was shaking her head at me.

Cindy swallowed a bit of waffle and continued to shake her head. "We give you a little freedom here before the Games and you turn into a grouchy teenager… typical."

I awkwardly bit my lip. Had the slightest bit of freedom made me forget how to socially function? "I-I… I have to go to the bathroom." I got up and exited the room, strolling back towards my bedroom.

I heard Cindy shout behind me, "Dear! That's not the bath—"She cut herself off when she realized my mistake was intentional.

About two hours later, I was showered, dressed, and descending in an elevator from the eleventh floor to the Training Hall. Once I reached said destination, I disembarked the elevator and scanned the room. Only one other tribute was here, a blonde-haired girl furiously weightlifting. She turned to me briefly and gave a slight sign of compassion, as if she also comes from an outlying district.

I fixated my eyes on the swordplay station, where I had spent my day training the previous day. I somewhat indecisively let my gaze wander to the spear station. Suddenly, I was filled with memories of back home. Back in the Dark Days, there had been a great battle in District 11 which involved mostly spears. Recently, someone in the fields had uncovered a buried stash of said spears, and was planning to use them in an uprising against the Peacekeepers. I admit, I was interested in the movement at one point, but eventually deemed it hopeless. It never did happen, but some of us workers still hope for something like that.

As I walked over to the spear station, I noticed the three Career tributes sitting down to discuss whatever; it seemed to me, they spent more time strategizing than they did actually training. I rolled my eyes slightly at them and grabbed a spear. I hurled it over my shoulder at a target, and it barely hit the outer rim. I scoffed and threw another one. It didn't even hit the target. I noticed a boy I hadn't seen before snickered, and I gave him a death glare. I picked up another spear and threw it into him.

The boy barely dodged, and I blushed when I realized I had nearly killed him.

The rest of the room broke out in laughter, even the girl weightlifting cracking up at my near-murder.

"Try to save the bloody kills for the game!" The prissy Career girl called.

The boy went over to me, red-faced. "What the heck do you think gives you the right to do _that_?"

"I, uh…" I murmured. "I was just m-mad…"

The boy slammed his hand against his thigh. "Do you have _any _idea who I am? I belong to the richest family in District 12! I am Noir Blackinton, and I could buy _and _sell you!"

"I, urm…" Suddenly, I realized something. "I know I don't have to listen to you." I stomped on his foot and ran away.

Noir clutched his foot and yelped, which was met with more laughter by our "little audience."

I walked away feeling strangely but pleasantly accomplished with myself, as if I had been waiting to do something like that since I was born. Just then, a bell and announcement came on announcing that it was lunchtime.

I sat down by myself at a table far off from the others. Everyone else was sitting by themselves as well, excluding the Careers. I began to pick at a strange but pleasant (a combination of feelings I seem to be experiencing often) sandwich prepared by the Capitol staff.

Suddenly, a thin boy who looked to be about my age sat down across from me, carrying what appeared to be a soda in his hands. "Hey there, little missy." He said in what resembled a Southern accent. "What's a small dame like you doin' here?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Um… I was reaped and dragged here by the Capitol?"

He nodded. "Well, ain't that nice? My name's Weet. I'm from District 9. I pick corn, y'know? We make bread where I come from."

I stared at him blankly. "…Ah-huh. So, urm… do you, like, _want _anything from me?"

Weet smirked. "I would like to propose an alliance. A little lady like you needs some protection from a man."

Having dealt with a few chauvinistic Peacekeepers back in 11, I simply shook my head. "I'd rather have an ally that treats me as an equal, not as a 'little lady.'" I got up and moved to a different table as Weet buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply.

After lunch ended, I found myself back at the spear station. After a few shots, I noticed that Noir and Weet were staring at me, conversing with each other. I rolled my eyes and gave them the ring finger, a rude gesture in 11. As they collected their disbelief, I noticed the climbing station and went over to it. Just as I was beginning to climb up the rock wall, a short, plump girl floated down, attached to a harness.

"Howdy there." She greeted. Her accent was similar to that of Weet, but a little more sweet and light. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm, uh…" I sighed. "…Getting ready to climb."

The girl nodded. "I'm Bev from District 10." She looked out at the other tributes. "Hard to believe all of us here are already killers, eh?"

I nodded slightly. "I guess."

Bev looked down for a bit. "Let's not dwell on that, eh?" She began to ascend up the wall and looked down at me. "You coming?"

I nodded and grinned a little. I began to pursue her up the rock wall, tailing her as we got closer to the buzzer at the top.

Eventually, I reached the buzzer before her and banged on it, sending out a siren.

Bev giggled. "Looks like we spent our second day of Training well."

She seemed to be implying that Training was over, much to my confusion. When I looked up, however, I noticed we were the only ones in the room besides the trainer, Aurora.

"Can you two please get out of here?" Aurora commanded. "Your private sessions with the Gamemakers are in fifteen minutes."

Bev and I looked at each other with general panic and hurled ourselves off the rock wall. We strangled our harnesses off and rushed up to our respective floors to get ready for the private sessions.

When I Bev and I arrived dressed in uniforms issued to us, the other tributes were quietly standing in line, and the District 1 girl had already begun her session. When she walked out a few moments later, she kept a poker face, but stopped to wink at her fellow Careers.

That pattern continued with tributes going in and out, until Bev finished her session and only Noir and I were left in the room.

"Next," A voice called from the Training Room.

I awkwardly stood up and entered the room, almost tripping on my own shoes and fumbling in.

The Gamemakers regarded me with amusement, as if they were pleasantly surprised I was here.

A rather chubby man whom I presumed to be the Head Gamemaker sighed deeply. "Hello there, dear. What will you be doing for us?"

"Climbing…" I muttered. I was sure they didn't hear me, but approached the rock wall anyway. I began to climb as fast as I could, pretending I was with Bev to help ease my nerves and stage fright. Once I rang the buzzer, I turned around to the Gamemakers. To my surprise, they weren't even looking at me. Most of them were either eating or tapping away at those electronics that come from District 3.

I sighed deeply and jumped off, landing smoothly on the ground. I unstrapped my harness and exited the room, head held low. On my way through the waiting room, I noticed Noir snicker at me like he had during Training earlier that day.

After dinner, Apollo, Cindy, and I sat down in front of a TV set up in Cindy's room to watch as they announced the Training scores. I was intimidated at first, especially by the Careers' scores.

Apollo must've noticed this, because he tried to comfort me. "Don't get psyched out, kid. Getting a high score is good, but it also puts a huge target on your back."

I suppose that should've made me feel better, but it made me worry if my score would be too high and I would be targeted by the others.

Besides the Careers, most of the other scores were fairly low, excluding that District 8 girl, who scored a 9, and Bev, who scored a 7. I smiled a bit seeing her high score. Then, finally, my score appeared on-screen. I looked at the television with anticipation, and it was announced that my score was an 8. I wasn't exactly sure how to react, but Apollo and Cindy seemed to be excited.

"Holy crap, that's a nice score!" Apollo exclaimed. "Especially for someone from 11."

Cindy nodded in agreement. "Most tributes from outlying Districts don't get much higher than a 5."

I nodded shyly, knowing that I'd given myself attention, but not really giving a damn. "So… I guess today wraps up Training."

Cindy nodded. "Mm-hmm. Tomorrow, we'll have to get you ready for your Interview. It'll be an all-day affair. Caesar doesn't like a shabby tribute, you know."

I sighed deeply and stood up. "I think I'm going to bed…" I muttered, leaving Apollo and Cindy to converse behind me.

With that, I plopped down on my bed and dreamt away, blissfully uncaring about the certain death that lay in front of me. I was way too interested in the fact that I had obtained some form of freedom to dwell on that. The following day, I was to present myself to a crowd that could determine whether I live or die. And I didn't give a crap.


	4. Chapter 4

**Noir's POV**

I awoke this morning with a sharp pain in my neck, and my pillow thrown at the corner of the room. I shook my head despite the hurt. A person like me should have someone to clean that up.

My name is Noir Blackinton. I come from District 12. Before you start going on about how poor my District is, I have to say… it's mostly true, but I'm an exception. Some "well-off" families in 12 are merchants or bakers, but I prefer to consider my family "businesspeople." We found diamonds during my father's generation in a coal mine and have been making smart decisions to stay that rich since. Some people think that being rich is easy… well, mostly it is. But it's not _always _a bowl of cherries. At least once a month, I get mugged because I'm carrying bread or money or whatever. You really must pity those muggers, having to steal just for things like food and water. I live in the most expensive and fanciest house in my District, a practical white castle.

I begin to doze back off to slumber, but before long, I'm awoken again by raging nightmares of my sister's ghost. When I was reaped, she was reaped along with me. Being the first Quarter Quell, we were being forced to kill the other tribute from our District to get into the Games. I somewhat regret it, but I thought only of myself and vanquished her using a bow and arrow. The expression of my parents during this haunts me as well, their blatantly horrified faces. Even my father, who believes that "everything happens for a reason" and "regret is a useless feeling."

No… I mustn't let that get the best of me. In the Blackinton family, we have a motto: "Act confident in your decisions, and people will respect them." Still… I'm not quite sure I should've been the one to live on Reaping Day. I had been acting like a complete snob the past couple of days in Training, which had concluded the day before. I had scored a 5 during my private session, in which I had demonstrated my boxing skills. Apparently, the Gamemakers didn't think I was as strong as I really am, and gave me an inadequate score. Oh, well. I'll just have to _prove _myself to them in the arena.

That day, I was to use the entire day up getting ready for an Interview with Caesar Flickerman that same night. It wasn't much of a challenge getting me to look beautiful, but they gave an entire day for the attractively challenged. During the parade on the first day in the Capitol, my outfit was simple but lovely: me butt naked, covered in coal dust imported from my home District. Of course, there was that particularly sexy Capitol citizen that caused some uncomfortable circumstances… but that's beside the point.

"Hey, Noir, get in here!" My mentor, Charleston Towers, called. I always found his name ridiculous, and his manner of being as well. Whatever he saw in the arena in his time there, he hasn't been able to get over it. It's true that he's one of a kind, however, in the sense that he's the only victor District 12's ever had. He was reaped for and won the 1st annual Hunger Games, to everyone's surprise. Unfortunately, the rest of the years up to date have not been as kind to our District, and from my knowledge, every single tribute we've had since Charleston's victory had died in the Bloodbath.

I don't know whether or not it's fair to say that that's Charleston's fault, but he's not in very good shape. He takes a sleep-inducing drug regularly, and it knocks him out quick. The only time he ever really wakes up is to mentor the tributes every year. I'm not even sure if he stays awake to see how they perform in the Games.

With a groan, I push my guilt and regret to the back of my heart and struggle out of bed. With meek steps, I step in the hallway and follow Charleston into the dining hall.

As Charleston and I sit down, I note just how skinny he is. I suppose this never came to mind for me, but all the time he spends sleeping doesn't allow him many meals. Roughly, it might even be an overestimation to say he eats once a week.

We were soon joined by my escort, Madonna McFloppensong, as she spent the entire breakfast applying make-up, just as she did during everything. I had never seen her face at all; she spent so much time powdering it.

The three of us ate in silence as we had the past two days, until Charleston spoke up towards the end of our meal.

"Today's the day of the Interviews." He sighed, with a voice that sounded as if he had just woken up. "After this, we'll turn you over to the stylists and they'll handle you until the Interview you have tonight."

I nodded reluctantly. With a person that doesn't even like haircuts, getting styled up in the Capitol was absolute hell.

After breakfast, Charleston and Madonna did what he claimed he would do, and let the stylists do whatever they wanted to me until the Interviews started that very night.

I'd rather not walk you through the process of getting me ready, so I'll try to make it brief. Basically, it involved tons of shaving, waxing, grooming, plucking, and powdering simply to make it so that I look exactly the same from under my clothes, but I won't look pale and tacky from under the bright lights they'll shine on me during the Interview. Then came in the head stylist to run me through how I'll be dressed.

My head stylist was a tall, thin man named Leo. His name was fitting enough, seeing as how his dark tangerine hair was shaped into a mane and his fingers were given artificial claws. From my experience, he was very cut-to-the-chase with everything. He introduced me to my evening outfit by simply showing it to me.

To be honest, I didn't particularly favor the thing. It resembled a one-piece bathing suit with coal dust sprinkled all over it, and I'm pretty sure that's what it was. Aside from covering my, urm… lower half, it also completely covered my chest.

Leo silently but disturbingly ripped my clothes off and put the outfit on me, making me realize how skimpy it was.

I blushed slightly and sighed. "So, um… when is this Interview thing, anyways?"

Leo peered at his watch and grinned. "About an hour. We have just enough time to drive you there to have you by the time you need to go on."

_An hour? _I thought. _Had so much time gone by since they started getting me ready for my big moment? _

Again, Leo was very quick about what happened next. He alerted Madonna and Charleston that I was prepared, and they got ready to watch my Interview via television. He then ushered me into what resembled a stretch limo and drove me himself to what amounted to a stage so I could wait with the other tributes for my time to go on.

A security guard led me into a small room near the stage, where the other eleven tributes were waiting for the time they would call that District 1 girl.

Just before they called her onstage with Caesar Flickerman, they announced that because there was half the amount of tributes as usual, each interview would be six minutes long instead of three. As soon as she sat down with Caesar, a TV set above us began playing her Interview, as it would with all twelve.

Her Interview was something… intimidating. She went on and on about the fact that the mayor of District 1 was her father (a fact that surprised everyone besides her allies). She gave me fear, but also something a bit more… nice. Oh, lord, why is evil so alluring at times?

The District 2 boy also gave an interesting interview. He said something about being the runt in his family, a feeling I know absolutely nothing of. With the sob story he was playing, it almost made me feel sorry for a _Career_.

Unfortunately, most of the following tributes were a bit of bore – until some District 8 girl came onstage. She was very… different. I wouldn't call her cruel, more… determined. It was obvious that she wasn't going to take anything from anyone, and in the arena, I would have to watch out for her. When Caesar asked her if she felt she was overexposing her strength, she claimed she was trying to ward off threats before they arose.

The District 11 girl was interesting as well. She felt so free in front of the crowd, and went on about her terrible life being oppressed by the Peacekeepers and such. As much as I hated that she had lodged an arrow in my forehead, I had to be amused by her nerve and feelings about newfound freedom. Then, Caesar shooed her offstage and called me up.

Suddenly, the entire room – no, the entire world – seemed to drop ninety degrees. I felt as if I were about to pass out of sheer nervousness. I was not a very shy person, so I have no idea what got into me.

Caesar called me once again. A couple of Peacekeepers eyed me threateningly.

I got up, shaking, and plopped myself down on the chair across from him, nearly tripping on my own feet.

"Smooth moves there, buddy." Caesar joked.

The audience chortled in response. I knew he was only kidding, but I blushed brighter than a tomato. I choked it down, though. A Blackinton is not anxious.

"So, Noir…" Caesar continued. "How did you feel when you were reaped?"

I swallowed my pride and decided to answer this entire ordeal truthfully. "Confident… I guess."

"The girl tribute was your sister, right?" Caesar asked. "How'd that go over?"

"Not too great." I admitted, with a sigh. "Just last night, I had a nightmare about her corpse and what I had done. A surge of selfishness and desire had engulfed me that day. I'm not sure if I'm the most qualified to win this game."

I heard a wave of shock come from the audience.

"So, what do you think could help you in the arena?" Caesar asked. I could tell from his body language that he was desperate to lighten up the subject.

I shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not sure what I can do. I've lived in complete wealth my entire life, but unlike a Career Tribute, I haven't been trained for the Games in the slightest."

Caesar Flickerman raised his right eyebrow. "A rich kid from District 12? That's not very… believable."

I shrugged. "I come from the richest family there. I know that probably means I'd end up homeless if I moved here to the Capitol or even to Districts 1 or 2, but where I'm from, what I have is a lot."

Caesar nodded. "Even if you're at the bottom, there's always someone on top."

I squinted at him confusedly. "Um… I suppose."

The audience laughed, despite it not being much of a joke.

Caesar eyed me strangely. "So, got anything to say about your choice of clothing?"

"It's not the biggest or most comfortable thing in the world." I admitted, with a bit of a grin.

The already-amused crowd began to laugh louder.

"Let's not hope any of the girl tributes are too pretty." Caesar joked. "We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened at the parade."

I blushed redder than I ever have in my life, but Caesar laughed either way.

The audience continued to crack up, and I forced a smile.

Suddenly, a bell rang, signaling the end of my Interview. I sighed in sweet relief and practically ran offstage; ignoring the glances my fellow tributes gave me as I sat down.

As Caesar charismatically closed the show, we were ordered to leave and were guided to our stretch limos and driven back to our places to sleep.

As I plopped myself down on my bed, I was left with absolutely nothing except myself and my thoughts. Several of these bounced around in my head, including ones that forced me to hang on to my pillow for what seemed like dear life. The next day I would be going into the Hunger Games. The odds were not in my favor, and I doubt I had many fans in the Capitol. I doubted that I was going to stand much of a chance in the Games, and the fact that I should even be here. I began to think that my sister should be the one heading into certain death, as strange as that may sound. For the Blackinton family, this was a lose-lose situation. Even if both of us had gone into the Games, only one of us could've gotten out. It became clear what was going to happen: win and be plagued by guilt, or lose and get what I deserve.

The more I got my motivation poisoned; I made a literally life-changing decision: I was not going to survive the Hunger Games. And I was completely alright with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Bev's POV**

I awoke with a bitter taste in my mouth. My heart skipped a beat as I realized that day was the beginning of the 25th Annual Quarter Quell.

My name is Bev Young. I come from District 10. When I was reaped, I can't say I wasn't frightened. I planned to live a quiet, simple life. I planned to grow up, get an education, make enough money to get by and start a family, and continue having a caring relationship with animals. When I was reaped, that all flashed before me and was ripped roughly from my hands. I saw it fade away as I was forced onstage and given instructions to kill a complete stranger with a sword. Needless to say, I did it. I didn't really want to, but I did it.

To this day, I still wonder why I hadn't been the one that had been killed that afternoon. Although, I've been able to figure out why I hadn't _let _myself simply be killed. I felt a certain… call of duty. For the Capitol, this was the biggest entertainment in all of Panem; it was their Olympics. They wanted a show, and I knew I had to give them one. They didn't want a dozen kids to come in and want to give up and be killed. So, of course, I knew what I was going to do. I went into battle with my would've-been district partner and came out victorious. How, I still cannot fathom.

My mentor, Hamilton Good, came in with a pale white face. It often became that way when he was nervous, and I knew he was on that day. "Bev, come now, to breakfast. We have to be at the arena in just a few hours."

Way too quickly, I found myself on what resembled a bus with the other eleven tributes to said arena, scared and anxious. Breakfast went by in a silent flash, and I was dressed by the Peacekeepers into my uniform, even more quickly. The bus ride also went on soundlessly, all the other tributes immersed in their own thoughts, including me. As the time passed, I began to accept that I would never get my dream future life back. Whether I won or not, I would never be that girl, even—no, especially—if I returned as a victor. As this dawned on me, I began to slowly weep at how this reaping of chance had torn my world to shreds.

Another young woman looked in my direction and nods slightly, as if to ask if I were alright. I nod with false certainty, as yet another inevitable thought crosses my mind: I had nothing but what I have now from here on out. If I had died, I'll have lost nothing. I already lost my future. If I had won, I would've never gotten my future. What I felt at that moment was what I would feel for the rest of my life, no matter how long it was to be.

Finally, we arrived at the entrance to the arena. We were met with a dozen long tubes, each with five-foot-tall entrances. I assumed the platform at the bottom would carry us up to the arena, and I was correct. With almost eerie coordination, all twelve of us mounted ourselves upon the platforms and were whisked up toward where we made our final stand where we would not be in constant danger of losing our lives, or otherwise already having lost it.

I ended up randomly in-between the boy from District 3 and the girl from District 8. Some of the tributes exchange some unreadable glances towards each other, and I sigh deeply in sheer frustration.

A boomingly loud voice comes over the speaker. "Citizens of Panem…" It calls, obviously not addressing us. "And fine Tributes of our twelve Districts. May the 25th Annual Hunger Games… begin!"

I was the only tribute not to take off immediately towards the stash of weapons. Instantly, I saw the gruesome terror that would be so abundant in the next week or so. A brown backpack lay on the ground, a rambunctious stampede forming around it. Weet, the boy who had attempted to ally with Orchid a few days earlier, was ironically stabbed to death by her with a blunt sword, in an effort to grab the backpack. I almost-too-easily pushed aside the shock of seeing someone like Orchid kill, and then watched in confusion as Orchid was dragged away by the boy from District 3, who grabbed the backpack on the way out. It seems as if she called out directly to me as she departed, and I forgot the bloodbath surrounding me simply to chase after her. I successfully escaped the Cornucopia, and ran off in the same direction Orchid and the boy had.

I emerged in a grassy forest, filled up to the brim with trees. I blindly guessed where the two had gone, and, of course, ended up in a clearing all by myself. My stomach began to rumble, and as used to it as I was, I realized I was screwed over when it came to food. I hadn't a single weapon, and all the ones at the Cornucopia had probably already been claimed. Desperately, I approached a nearby lake and attempted in vain to fish with my bare hands.

What seemed like hours passed and I hadn't even caught a minnow. I wallowed in self-pity for a moment. I thought I was so skilled with animals, at least back home; but I had come to the realization that I literally couldn't hunt to save my life.

Just as I was about to give up on trying to catch dinner, I heard a deep growl. I leaped up and found myself face to face with a creature similar to a bear. It had long, silver, metallic claws on each paw and its left eye was a bright crimson.

Following my instincts, I internally shrieked and ran for dear life. I didn't dare look back, but the growls and destruction from the bear were clearly audible.

I finally stopped at the clearing I stopped at earlier, and collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. I glanced up for a second to make sure I had lost the bear. I waited for several minutes just to be sure, and when I finally trusted the notion that I was in the clear, I noted that night had fallen.

Soon after, what resembled a screen appeared in the pitch-black sky and began showing the faces of the first day's fallen tributes: The boy from District 5, apparently named Duke. The girl from District 6; Reyna. The boy from District 7, whose name was Ash. And finally, the boy from District 9, named Weet.

I felt sorry for them at first, but soon realized that I hadn't the right to feel that way, not even having known their names until their deaths. With some difficulty, I pushed those thoughts aside and began to plan for a safe night of sleep, hopefully. I slowly climbed the tallest nearby tree, reaching the highest branch I could. I planted myself on the branch, making sure it was thick enough so that I could toss and turn without falling to the grass. Ignoring my extreme hunger and grief, I pushed myself asleep, ready for another day of gruesome fighting for my own life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Orchid's POV**

I awoke this morning next to Sony, the boy from District 3. The day before, he had taken me away in the midst of the bloodbath, and intended to end my life far away from the Cornucopia so that he himself could not be murdered. I tried to reason with him in sheer desperation, making up lies about how I could help him on his way to victory.

"I can be of use to you!" I had claimed. "I've worked in the fields! I know where we can get food; I don't mind manual labor!

It was no easy task, but I had convinced him that I was willing to form and commit to an alliance.

"Okay, then, 11." Sony had reluctantly agreed. "I'll agree to stay by your side as long as you do the same. Once we're the last two left, you're going down… hard. You got that?"

I had nodded rapidly, sealing the deal.

So there I laid, Sony still asleep. He had made his—or rather, our—strategy clear the previous night: We wouldn't spend any time just watching tributes; we would take them down ourselves. While I didn't exactly agree with this method, it was clear he left no room for protest.

I stared at the fish we had caught the night before, supposedly enough to last us that entire day. I sighed deeply and threw one of them onto the campfire we had started. The fish cooked slowly, and by the time it was done, Sony was wide awake.

"Good morning," he grumbled to me. "What's our first task for the day?

I hadn't known Sony for very long at that point, but I did know that he was very efficient, very to-the-point. I was sure we'd spend no time just sitting at camp.

"Well…" I said softly. "I was wondering if we could look for my friend, Bev. I met her during Training… and she seemed like a good ally."

"The girl from 10?"

I nodded. "I was about to run over to her before you took me away. I saw her trying to catch up to us, but we lost her eventually. I don't know where she is… but then again, I don't know where anyone is."

Sony was about to reply, but we suddenly heard rustling in the nearby bushes.

"What was that?" He shouted.

I swallowed hard and looked up. The rustling continued, until eventually the two of us were able to catch a glimpse of the intruder: the girl from District 8.

Sony, like I, could plainly see which way she had gone and set his eyes on said path. He swiftly took a sword out of the backpack he gotten at the Cornucopia the day before and got up. "Come on." He whispered to me. "She's not getting away."

At first, Sony was leading me in the chase, but I was faster than him and he was soon far behind me. I could see the girl from 8 just in front of me; it was blatant she wasn't going down without a fight. Both through her speed and my own exhaustion, she eventually escaped from my sight and I wound up in a small clearing.

In the corner, just about a yard in front of me, laid Noir of District 12. He had blood stained onto his uniform, gushing from a wound on his upper abdomen. He was far from dead, but rendered unable to stand up. There was no trace of the District 8 girl, besides, of course, his injury.

Sony arrived soon, and immediately fixed his gaze upon Noir. He snickered, "Well well well, if it isn't everyone's favorite snob."

Noir thrashed about, his mouth full of blood and unable to speak. A tear fell from his pleading eyes.

"You weren't exactly what we were looking for." My so-called ally confessed. "But really, any kill will suffice for today." He slowly brought his sword into sight.

Noir struggled harder, but still could not get up. His eyes showed blatant desperation.

Sony chuckled sadistically. "Now, don't wiggle about. It'll only make my job harder." He approached Noir, holding the sword parallel to his body.

I couldn't help but look away and shut my eyes. At first, I heard screams of agony, apparently all Noir's bloody mouth could muster, and then… dead silence. I forced myself to look back at the corpse, stabbed repeatedly in the heart and stomach. I heard the cannon sound.

I gasped and backed away as Noir shifted his attention to me.

"So, did you see where District 8 went?" He asked.

I shook my head. "She… she wasn't here when I got here."

"So it was her that helped me kill Noir." Sony sighed. "I should've known. Oh, well… we'll get her when we have the chance." He looked towards the clouds and noticed a pillar of smoke coming from the distance. "In the meantime, let's get that idiot that made a campfire in the middle of the day."

I stared at the smoke strangely… a campfire in the daytime? Still, I followed Sony to the site of the fire, and we both received a major shock when we arrived.

We found ourselves facing a flaming, burnt, and blackened backpack; ours.

Sony swore, "You damned tricksters, whoever did this…" His voice trailed off.

"What do we do?" I asked quietly.

Sony sighed deeply. "What is there _to _do?" He scowled. "All our food, weapons… everything we needed to survive!" He stared down at his sword. "Now all we have is this shitty little sword."

I nodded gently and kept my mouth closed.

The rest of that day was uneventful. Catching our next meals was a struggle, but Sony eventually managed to get a deer for us, using his sword, which lasted us lunch and dinner.

About an hour after dinner, the deceased tribute appeared in the sky. The only kill that day had been Noir, leaving seven tributes. As guilty as I felt for just letting Sony slay him, I was relieved that Bev was still out there somewhere, alive. I sighed and lay down on the grass, where I eventually fell asleep. That day had been difficult and exhausting, as well as inconvenient. I had dreams of murder and bloodshed, prepared to have them come true the next day.


End file.
